Avenging sneezing nonsense
by cherrishish
Summary: Just a collection of sneezefic drabbles (or more like one-shots) with our favorite heroes, if you are into that kind of stuff, with some plot relevant ramblings. Set to complete but updated whenever a plot bunny comes my way. Rated T just to make sure. Chap 1 is ScarletVision. Chap 2 is Pepperony. Chap 3 is Claura. Chap 4 is BlackHill. Chap 5 is Starki (maybe a slight ship).
1. ScarletVision

_Title: May the odds be ever in your favor…_

 _Ships: Wanda Maximoff/Vision, ScarletVision_

 _Sickie: well of course our favorite witch, but Clint makes an appearance too_

 _Setting: Sometime between Avengers: Age of Ultron and Captain America: Civil War, but Wanda's powers are a bit more in compliance with the comics_

* * *

She tried everything, absolutely everything. The brunette had avoided everyone in the Avengers compound by a mile wide radius when that nasty flu swept through the majority of the staff and heroes – well besides the ones who due to whatever reason were practically or literally immune to any human disease – carefully locking herself away in her room. She had even used her chaos magic to shift the probabilities against her catching the nasty virus.

So when Wanda woke with a scratchy throat a few days later, she was absolutely livid.

"Noooo…" – the Scarlet Witch croaked in dismay. Trying to clear her throat only led to a coughing fit too.

Achy and shivery she managed to scramble out of bed and headed for her bathroom to take a hot shower. The steam helped somewhat with her sinuses but did nothing for the rest of her misery.

With a large bunch of tissues she snuggled back under her covers, trying to read something, but her itching nose kept interrupting her.

" _ha'TCHew"_ – the sneeze that had been teasing her for like the last half an hour erupted finally, and from that point there was no stopping. – _"hi'ksh, eh… hah… he'kshew… Hi'KSHOO…"_

"Bless you!" – a figure suddenly flitted through the wall, startling her.

"Vision!" – she exclaimed in outrage, her voice sounding absolutely horrible. _What if she had been indecent?_

"I believe 'bless you' is the customary thing to say when someone sneezes, right?" – he wondered out loud, unsure suddenly.

"Right, but what did I tell you about using the door?" – Wanda inquired with a raised brown, rubbing her nose absentmindedly in an effort to relieve the itch that had started up again deep in her sinuses.

"I am sorry, you seemed to be in distress." – Vision offered as an explanation.

"Just caught the bug that's been going around." – she sniffled, trying to avoid blowing her nose in front of the android, but there was no escaping it as a drip was already threatening to fall from the tip of her nose, so she did so anyway embarrassedly turning away from him.

The floating red figure seemed to be in thought for a moment, probably searching through some vast database regarding what was to be done in cases like this.

"How about I make you a chicken noodle soup, to make you feel better?" – he offered in a calm manner, but Wanda could see a hint of worry in his eyes. – "And maybe get you some medicine for that fever."

"Uhm… that's actually really sweet of you." – the witch looked up in surprise.

He offered another tentative smile as he floated himself down to the floor. – "I'll just take the door."

"Thank… _eh…_ thank you!" – she called after him. – _"hi'ktshew…"_

* * *

"Large pot over medium heat…" – Vision muttered to himself as he busied himself in the state of the art kitchen located at the living quarters section of the Avengers compound. – "Butter and vegetables…" – he mused floating over to the fridge.

"What are you doing?" – a gruff male voice called out to him from the other side of the kitchen island.

"Hello, Clint. Making chicken noodle soup." – the android stated matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, I gathered that. But why?" – Hawkeye inquired with a sniffle, pulling the blanket that was around his shoulders closer to himself as he sat down on one of the bar stools, then sneezed, not bothering to stifle it. – _"HEK'tSHOO..."_ – he groaned afterwards, as the forceful sneeze hurt his throat. Thankfully the sneeziest part of his illness was over in two days, so he only had to endure a couple throughout the day now.

"Wanda is feeling under the weather. How are you, by the way?" – Vision noted the state the archer was in.

"Been better, but I'll live." – Barton waved off his concerns after blowing his nose – after all he was in the last leg of this wretched flu now after a week – being more interested in how the artificial being intended to go about cooking. It was an amusing sight to see him unsurely fiddle with ingredients. – "So the Scarlet Witch has succumbed to the fate us mortals have to endure too?"

"She isn't immortal." – the android remarked absentmindedly, looking curiously at the frozen chicken breast that he had just taken out, wondering how to cut it up.

"That's not what I meant…" – he sighed then had to pause to clear his throat. – "Just thought with her voodoo powers she would have made sure to avoid getting sick."

"Her magic doesn't work that way." – was all Vision offered as explanation as he examined the different spices that were supposed to go into the broth. He wasn't really a man of unnecessary words.

"Here, let me do it." – Clint took pity on him, and got up to make his way around the counter, shivering a little as he set his blanket down to have better mobility.

"You should rest, I can take care of this." – the red being protested.

"I have three kids. Trust me, I can handle making a soup even with the sniffles." – Hawkeye huffed, rolling his eyes.

* * *

A half an hour later Vision made his way to Wanda's room with a tray in hand, on it a bowl of soup, all sorts of medicine, a glass of water and another with orange juice – he wasn't sure which one would the ailing Avenger girl prefer.

Having learned from his earlier mistake, Vision first knocked on her door. No answer came, so he knocked again a few seconds later. When there was no response the second time around, balancing the tray carefully in one hand, he opened the door quietly to see if the Scarlet Witch was alright.

The brunette had dozed off, snoring slightly, the book she had been reading abandoned, face down on her chest. Her cheeks were flushed, an obvious sign of her fever getting worse.

Quietly setting the tray down on her bedside table, Vision retrieved the book, placing it beside the tray, then made his way to the bathroom to fetch a small towel to dampen with cold water. Returning to Wanda's bedside he placed it onto her forehead.

"Mh?" – the girl woke groggily from the cold contact.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." – Vision apologized in a soft tone, not wanting to worsen her headache if she had one. Fevers usually came with those too.

"No, it's fine…" – she mumbled, looking around blearily. After she spotted the tray, she sat up to see what was on it exactly, coughing a little as she did so.

Wanda reached for what looked like fever reducers and painkillers from the tray without a word, taking them with the water. Noticing the awkward silence, she glanced up at the red figure standing there uncomfortably, unsure what to do with himself.

"You can sit down, you know…" – the witch scooted over a little, patting the bed at her side.

Vision joined her reticently, looking to his side at the tray and its contents. – "Do you want some soup?"

"Yeah… _hah…_ excuse me…" – Wanda's breath hitched and she turned away from the android, cupping her mouth and nose in preparation for the sneeze. – " _eh… hikshoo… eh'ktshi…hi…eh…"_

And she lost the last one, the false start irritating her nose to no end.

"Bless you." – he offered a couple of tissues to her.

"Thadgz." – the brunette stuffily accepted, blowing her nose hard to clear the congestion. – "So as I was saying, soup would be nice."

Vision placed the tray in her lap, and she ate the soup slowly, blowing on each spoonful.

"This is really good." – she praised surprisedly. Honestly she didn't think he would be such a good cook.

"Clint's merit." – the red being admitted. – "I only got to the cutting up of ingredients before he took over."

"Did he think you were too clumsy and got impatient? He does that to everyone. But compared to him everyone is clumsy in the kitchen." – Wanda tried to reassure him with a smile as she finished the soup.

Taking the tray away from her, Vision stood up, intending to leave and let her rest.

"Wait…" – the Scarlet Witch tentatively called after him, feeling suddenly in desperate need of company, not wanting to be miserable and alone too. – "Could you maybe… stay?"

Wordlessly he set the tray back down and got back onto the bed by her side, looking at her with mild interest as to where this was going.

A bit timidly, but with her fever making her braver, she cuddled up to his side, resting her head on his chest. At first unsure as to what to do, but a second later he awkwardly placed his hand onto her shoulder, drawing her closer to himself.

A wry smile made its way onto her face as she closed her eyes, and seconds later Wanda was blissfully asleep.


	2. Pepperony

_Title: Convenient excuses_

 _Ships: Virginia 'Pepper' Potts/Tony Stark, Pepperony (though on break)_

 _Sickie: Pepper, Tony (separately)_

 _Setting: beginning of Captain America: Civil War_

* * *

The strawberry blond woman sighed heavily to herself as she lay in her bed alone in her apartment. She was supposed to join Tony to confer at an MIT event regarding the September Foundation Grant tomorrow. She really, really, _really_ didn't want to go. Ever since their split it was more than enough of a reminder of their relationship to see the Stark name everywhere, literally everywhere, as she did her job, running his multi-billion dollar company, she truly didn't wish to see him in person too.

Pepper wasn't sure she would be able to handle that. She still loved him, very much, and she was sure he loved her too. But his robots and AIs, running around the globe as Iron Man seemed to be more important to him, and after the Extremis and Ultron incidents, she just couldn't take the stress and worry of it anymore and suggested that they should cool it until he rearranged his priorities a bit. So that's where they were at right now.

So when in the early morning the Stark Industries CEO woke up with a blossoming head cold, despite the fact that she knew from experience that she was going to absolutely miserable – and miserable alone – in the next few days, she reveled in the extenuating circumstances that provided her with a very convenient excuse to cancel.

Given that a whole day was scheduled for the conference and travel, it also meant that no one was going to miss her at the office either the next day, so she just had to wing it for now, and she could call in sick and rest the day away tomorrow.

Only one small problem: to manage that she somehow needed to will herself out of bed just now, and her body was absolutely not having it. Every little muscle in her anatomy protested against her attempts at the slightest movement, let alone actually sitting up, getting her ass out of bed and making herself presentable.

She sighed again, coughing a little, and steeled herself to actually start her day, when an insistent itch wedged itself into her sinuses.

 _"_ _eh… h'ktschi… h'ksh…"_ – two successive little dainty sneezes escaped her, but even those engaged her whole core, making her curl up on herself. She hated sneezing. It made her head hurt even more.

The blonde blinked twice, testing if she was done, then pushing through her muscles aches got out of bed and headed for the shower. That's what she always did. Pushing through everything.

The steam made her nose run and the tickling feeling returned with a vengeance. – _"hi'kshew… eh… hah'Tshoo..._ Ugh." – that last one was a bit more forceful.

In a daze she got out from under the water, drying herself and her hair hastily before she got chilled again.

After getting dressed in her trademark, smart, light grey pencil skirt and business blazer, she looked at herself in the mirror. Her nose was already red and not mention her rimmed eyes. _This is going to be a long day…_ – she thought to herself as she applied some minimal make-up to conceal the evidence of her misery.

* * *

Pepper strutted out of the elevator on the floor her office was located on, her high heels clicking on the stone marble, every bit of energy she had was utilized to keep her stride fluid and confident so as not to betray how shitty she really felt.

"Heather…" – the CEO addressed her assistant, her voice a bit rougher than usual. – "Cancel my attendance at tomorrow's MIT event, and please make me a cup of herbal tea, will you?"

"Ms. Potts!" – the brunette called after her as she turned away from her PA's desk towards her office. – "Your afternoon meeting with the Taiwanese has been postponed. Because of the typhoon, all flights have been cancelled to and from East Asia. They will get back to us with the rescheduling."

Small miracles did exist after all. The whole morning she had been fretting on how she was going to manage to pay attention to the important negotiations with this company.

"That's quite alright…" – the strawberry blond woman paused for a second, rethinking her plans with these turn of events. – "Heather, this afternoon and tomorrow I won't be in the office. My laptop and phone will be with me if there is anything urgent."

"Understood, ma'am." – she smiled sympathetically at her boss, but not letting otherwise known that she saw through the blonde's defences.

Nodding with a tight lipped expression, Pepper was finally able to make her way it into her office and promptly collapsed into her desk chair, resting her head between her palms and massaging her temples, trying to alleviate the throbbing.

 _Only two meetings, Pepper, you can do this… then you can go home at lunch._ – she tried to reassure and fire herself up to get through the day.

Heather came in a few minutes later with her tea.

"Your 9:30 appointment arrived a little early and is ready when you are, Ms. Potts." – the PA informed her.

"Thank you, just give me a minute." – she sipped on her tea, relishing the hot liquid that flowed down her throat and into her stomach, warming her up from the inside.

Once the brunette left, Pepper drank some more of her tea, cleared her throat as much as she could and blew her nose just as a precaution, then told Heather through the intercom to escort her guests in.

* * *

When Virginia 'Pepper' Potts finally arrived at her apartment at 12:56 she was thoroughly exhausted even from her short day at work, even Happy kept stealing worried glances at her through the rearview mirror in the car on the way home. Throughout her whole meetings she had to fight the urge to sneeze, sometimes discretely stifling to the side when she thought no one was paying attention to her. And she was suffering the consequences of it now. Her head threatened to explode from the pain.

All that she had enough energy left to do was to pop some painkillers in her mouth, change into sweats and crash into her bed, her work stuff left abandoned on the couch in the living room.

* * *

The next day, after sleeping for like 18 hours straight, she managed to relocate herself to the sofa, the TV on as background noise, but all she could do was to stare blearily at nothing in particular as she sat there surrounded by tissues and medicine, bundled in blankets for who knew how long.

Suddenly her breath caught in her throat, a small hitching noise escaping, and she quickly reached for another set of tissues, holding them inches from her nose in preparation for the sneeze.

 _"_ _he'ktsh… hik'tshew…"_ – they started out small, but got more insistent and strong as they went on. – _"eh… heh… Hi't_ _ **SHEW**_ _… HEK'_ _ **TSH**_ _OO…"_ – she winced at the last one as she blew her nose afterwards.

The program on the TV screen suddenly changed, a special report on breaking news coming on. Something in it piqued Pepper's interest and upped the volume on the remote.

 _"…_ _the full extent of the damage is still unknown. NewsFront correspondent Jackson North arrived in Lagos moments ago and he joins us now. Jackson."_ – the screen switched from the blonde news anchor to images of the scene and the reporter on site.

 _"_ _Christine. I'm a few yards away from where the conflict took place, it's still chaotic, though witnesses are confirming that members of the Avengers and unknown combatants were here at the time…"_ – the news anchor interrupted him with some questions.

 _"_ _Now, Jackson. Which Avengers were there exactly? Tony Stark…"_

 _"_ _Captain Rogers' involvement has been mentioned and corroborated, some accounts indicate Sam Wilson and Natasha Romanov, but nothing else definitive at this time…"_

 _"_ _Do we know why the Avengers were in Lagos? What initially brought them there?_ – the male news anchor cut in now.

 _"_ _That's still unconfirmed. There was also an incident at a military compound…"_

Pepper couldn't listen to it anymore, muting the TV. Glancing at the clock she noted that Tony should be right in the middle of his speech at MIT. But with the time difference he could have easily made it back to Cambridge from Nigeria…

She hesitantly reached towards her phone. Should she call him? Ask? What would she say? What if he _was_ involved? And even if he wasn't, what then? He would notice her stuffy voice even through the phone, would want to come over, take care of her… For a split second the idea was so inviting.

With a shake of her head she pulled her hand back quickly. No… nothing had really changed. It was best if she didn't stir this sleeping lion. This wasn't a convenient enough excuse.

* * *

To say that Tony Stark was having a rough day was a gross understatement. Not only did Pepper cancel her appearance with him at the MIT September Foundation Grant announcement at the last minute, something he had actually been looking forward to for weeks given that he hadn't seen his girlfriend… ex… well… most important person in his life… since their break-up… mutual split… ah whatever… but he was also nearly thrown off his game in front of a huge audience by that teleprompter blunder. He had an image to keep. _Seriously was it so hard to pay attention to details?_

Then that leech of a professor wouldn't get off his case about the faculty members getting money from the foundation too… _Which part of 'supporting young prodigies' didn't they understand from their mission statement?_ Tony had to actually resort to the 'which way is the restroom' trick to escape him.

His day went from mildly irritating to heartbreaking in a second when Mrs. Spencer cornered him in the staff hallway. His son died in Sokovia… and she blamed him for it. Truth be told Tony couldn't really argue with that. Ultron had been his fault.

He was already in a foul mood when F.R.I.D.A.Y. updated him on the outcome of the Avengers operation in Lagos. Something he really should have known hours ago, but his busy mind AI thought it best to keep him calm and focused before his presentation. So much good it did him now… He tried staying on the sidelines ever since Pepper's accusation that he was too invested in being Iron Man, but now he couldn't help but wonder if things would have turned out differently if he had been part of the mission too.

To top it all off, by the end of the day he was definitely coming down with something… must have been the guilt eating away at his heart and conscience. The new Avengers facility in upstate New York was the last place he wanted to be at this moment so he headed for Manhattan and the Tower.

As he sat there alone on one of the many couches, sniffling, he fiddled with his phone, spinning it around in his hands. Tony desperately wanted to call Pepper. She always took so good care of him whenever he was ill. And he missed her. _Really_ missed her. Cuddling would have sounded like an excellent idea just about now. For a moment he wasn't sure if the cold was messing with his brain, making him all clingy. So unlike him. Well at least unlike the Before Ms. Potts Tony.

 _"_ _hi-TSHOO!"_ – the sneeze suddenly snuck up on him, making him wince and clear his throat afterwards. Abandoning his phone on the coffee table, he stood up wearily and headed for his bedroom to turn in for the night. He genuinely wished for a convenient excuse to turn up at the strawberry blond woman's door unexpectedly, but alas a head cold just wasn't it.

As he showered he pondered on his life, responsibility and what possibly could be the best solution in a situation where it seemed whatever he did, whatever he _tried_ to do – getting in the middle of the action or staying out of it – everything just went up in flames, sometimes quite literally.

 _"_ _Heh'ktchh… H'_ _ **kshhh**_ _! Hehhh...ehh… hpmtchh!... Hi'k_ _ **SHEW**_ _…_ Ugh... _"_ – the steam of the scalding hot water that he had been running over himself seemed to do the trick of clearing his sinuses a bit.

By the time he got out of the shower his slightly feverish mind came up with a game plan. The Avengers needed oversight, and not the mistake making because of forgetfulness or lack of observation kind. They had done plenty of that over the years. No, they needed to be put in check. Some kind of a formal decision making process to govern their activities.

And he knew just the man to get something in the works that might be the salvation they were looking for. But that was for tomorrow, at this moment what he needed was sleep. Lots of it.


	3. Claura

_Title: The joys of parenting_

 _Ships: Clint Barton/Laura Barton, Claura? (Why isn't there a damned official ship name for these cuties on the internet? So what if they are married?)_

 _Sickie: Clint (and also baby Nathaniel, then later practically everyone but that's beside the point)_

 _Setting: Sometime between Avengers: Age of Ultron and Captain America: Civil War (if you want to be really specific, a few days, maybe a week, before Chap 1 of this fic, May the odds be ever in your favor…), a little bit of mentioning of my Fullmetal meets Marvel story at the beginning if anyone catches that :D_

* * *

He had retired. He truly had. So seeing him in sweats and an old dingy t-shirt with a burp cloth thrown over his shoulder instead a bow and quiver shouldn't have been a surprise. Despite knowing these facts Laura couldn't help but marvel at the fact that she had had her husband at home for 63 consecutive days (but who's counting), and with only a few, very, very short interruptions in the few months before that.

Except in April and May when he was gone quite a lot on and off, and she only got the explanation that there was a new – and very young – addition to the Avengers, and to not to worry there weren't any real missions, he just enjoyed hanging out with the gang and teasing the new girl to no end. Apparently she was from another world and everything was unfamiliar and surprising to her, which was hilarious to watch and make fun of. But since then she had returned home from what Laura could understand.

Yes, things changed ever since the events in Sokovia. She had nearly lost him there. She had Quicksilver to thank for avoiding the fate of a widowed single parent with three kids. So in honor of him they had named their youngest Nathaniel Pietro Barton. Laura, leaning against the doorframe, smiled at the sight of Clint holding him.

"Shhhh…" – Barton had been trying to get the fussy baby to sleep for like the last hour while Laura handled the needs of their other two children, helping with homework, getting dinner ready and ushering them off to prepare for bed to be exact.

Meanwhile he was running out of ideas on how to soothe Nathaniel. Rocking him, while lightly shifting from foot to foot, humming nondescript lullabies he didn't really know the lyrics to, having him lying on his shoulder, while he rubbed his back… nothing seemed to be helping. Their four-month-old had come down with his first respiratory infection and he was just simply not having it. Hawkeye had even set up a humidifier, but to no avail. Turning around, the archer noticed his wife in the doorway looking at them with a loving expression.

"Go get some dinner, I'll take over." – the brunette offered, holding her hands out for her youngest son.

"You're an angel." – Clint murmured tiredly into her ear as he handed off the baby and escaped to get some food into his system, even though he wasn't very hungry. He felt absolutely drained.

As Hawkeye sat there not really eating his meal, just pushing it around on his plate, spacing out, head resting in his left palm, Laura actually managed to sneak up on him from behind, putting her arms around his neck, kissing the side of his face. Barton hummed in appreciation then glanced up on the clock. Only fifteen minutes had passed.

"How did you manage that? I had been holding him for like an hour." – the archer mused out with a frown.

"Mother's touch." – Laura chuckled as she massaged the tension out of his shoulders a bit. – "But I think I will have another patient soon."

"What? Is Lila getting ill too?" – he looked up at her with worry, leaning his head back against her stomach. Last week Cooper was out of commission, having caught the flu at school, but so far at least his girls were able to avoid the nasty bug.

"No, dummy, I was talking about you." – his wife laughed out, bending down to kiss his forehead too. _Yepp, definitely the start of a fever._

Hawkeye didn't deign to answer that accusation, just furrowed his brows. Him? Sick? No way! He was fit, in great shape, well-trained, surely his immune system was up to the task of fighting off whatever virus his kids managed to drag home from their snot-faced schoolmates.

He firmly believed that. That is until his body betrayed him.

 _"_ _hih… Hep'tSCHOO…"_ – his head snapped forward suddenly with a loud sneeze, barely having enough time to cover with his hands. But he wasn't done yet, and so as not to wake the baby that they only just managed to put down, he stifled the rest while pinching his nose. – _"Hgnxt… he'ksht"_

"Told you so." – Laura commented humorlessly, rubbing his back for comfort before rounding their kitchen table to rummage through the medicine cabinet for some fever reducers and decongestants that her husband will surely need. – "Go upstairs and lie down, I'll be up in a sec after I've cleaned up."

"No, I'll help, you are already run ragged with making dinner and packing lunch for Lila and Cooper, not to mention Nate being sick." – Clint hugged Laura from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder.

"Clinton Francis Barton…" – she admonished warmly as she turned around in his arms. – "Up to bed. Now. Don't make me make you."

"Ouch, full name, huh… that bad?" – Hawkeye chuckled at his wife's antics, wanting to lean in and kiss her but thought better of it, not wanting to infect too. Although that was probably a moot point with how things were going.

Now _that_ would be a full on disaster. She was a fighter alright, she would push through it and take care of them despite being unwell, especially considering that one adult was already down in the family, but in the end she would just be ill even longer with the lack of rest. The chuckle and the stopped forward motion of his neck made the air catch a bit in his throat, eliciting the strong urge to clear it, so he let go of Laura and discretely coughed to the side into his fist.

"Just go, okay?" – she sighed with a shake of her head, turning her husband around by the shoulders and playfully swatting his ass – his very nice, well-defined and muscular ass I might add – to give him some momentum.

"Alright, alright. You win." – Clint laughed out again with his hands in the air, and finally making his way towards the stairs.

* * *

True to her word, ten minutes later Laura joined him, bringing up some steaming hot lemon-honey tea, water and the medicine too. Clint had managed to take a shower, change and already doze off by the time she got to him, but he stirred the minute he heard their bedroom door open.

"Hey, beautiful…" – he muttered when he noticed her, his voice already starting to sound rougher than just a few minutes earlier.

"Are you sure that isn't the fever talking?" – his wife jabbed mirthfully as she sat down by his side, offering him the pills with some water.

"Dunno, I'm always in a daze when I'm around you." – Hawkeye retorted with a wry smile, stifling a yawn by the end.

"Smooth, Clint, smooth." – Laura giggled lovingly while her husband downed the meds in one gulp. He sipped on the tea some after blowing on it, then situated himself back under the covers, patting the space by his right side to beckon her into joining him in bed, with which she happily obliged.

Unfortunately it seemed rest wasn't in the cards for him just yet. His phone – well one of them, the one that only the Avengers knew the number to – went off around 10 PM. Blearily he pick it up before it could wake the baby up in the nursery next door.

"Barton." – he answered with a gruff sleepy bark, trying to keep quiet to avoid waking Laura.

 _"_ _Clint? Is that you? Did I wake you? You sound like shit."_ – a female voice he would have recognized anywhere commented bluntly on the state of his vocal cords. Rough and sore. Based on Cooper's progress with the same malady, he will lose his voice by the end of tomorrow.

"Thanks for that, Nat." – he quipped back sarcastically, getting out of bed to make his way downstairs. – "What happened?" – because something must have, otherwise she wouldn't have called at this hour. Mind you 10 PM was only considered late when he was at home, and even then he usually didn't get to bed until midnight at least.

 _"_ _I need you to come on some old fashioned stake out with me."_ – the assassin informed him matter-of-factly. Like what else she would be calling for?

"Can't you take someone else? I'm retired, remember?" – Clint sighed while rubbing his eyes as he sat down on one of the chairs in the kitchen.

 _"_ _The only one available is Falcon, and I just don't have the patience tonight to listen to him insisting on me directly addressing that flying gadget of his."_ – Black Widow huffed with disdain. Barton could just imagine the face she was making as she said that.

"Redwing." – Hawkeye gibed with a wide smile on his face, discretely clearing his throat when he heard footsteps on the stairs and a second later seeing that Laura had come down to check on what was going on.

 _"_ _I know, I was purposefully not naming it."_ – Natasha pointedly retorted.

"Nat… now is really not a good time…" – Barton quickly began explaining, noticing his wife's unimpressed and worried gaze, and informing her at the same about who he was talking to.

 _"_ _Come on, for old time's sake. It will be like in Budapest._ " – the redhead cut in, trying to persuade him. She was… desperate. Sam could be a handful. She and Clint, they already knew each other inside and out, worked well and smoothly together.

"I hope very much that it won't be anything like that at all." – Getting stuck in an abandoned building, behind a barricade of enemies with no back-up or extraction plan for three days and ending up with multiple fractures, contusions and a concussion? No, thank you. Now that he thought about it… he had been sick on that mission too. Albeit that was only a cold. With no fever whatsoever.

 _"_ _I meant that it will be just the two of us and not the whole… gang."_ – Nat softened a bit. The Avengers were fun, don't get me wrong, but being among practically gods, people with superpowers or extremely high-tech gears, and with them only having their years of experience and hard-earned skills was… daunting at times.

"Fine, give me an hour and I'll get to Cleveland by that time so you can pick up." – the archer finally relented, not meeting his wife's eyes while he said that.

 _"_ _Make that twenty minutes, I'm already on the way to your farm on the Quinjet."_ – Black Widow smirked to herself as Barton sighed at her statement. Typical Natasha.

"Just land in the clearing two miles to the west. Nate is sick and we barely managed to get him to sleep." – Hawkeye instructed her, pinching the bridge of his nose to ward off a sneeze until they were in line.

 _"_ _Copy that."_ – and with that she hung up.

Right in that instant the itch became unstoppable but he had to be quiet for the kids' sake, so stifling it was. – _"H'ksht… hi'ntxght… heh'ksh."_ – he sneezed harshly, keeping his nose pinched, then looked up at his wife.

"Hodey…" – Clint started, trying to appease her, explain somehow – the congestion in his voice not helping at all with that – but she was already packing some stuff for him. Namely Ibuprofen, cough drops, tissues and anything else that he would need. She didn't want him to leave. Especially not in the state he was in. But she was not going to turn into those nagging wives who only made their husbands' lives harder by only taking what they wanted into account.

"Just try to take it easy, okay?" – with a sad smile Laura offered him a tissue, which he took gratefully and used it at once. When he was finished with blowing his nose, she hugged him around the waist.

"Thank you. I have no idea how possibly I could deserve you." – the agent buried his face into his wife's hair, frowning a bit that he lost all sense of smell with his blocked nose. He would have wanted to commit her scent into his memory until he was away.

"Me neither." – she quipped with a fake pout. – "Now go get ready. Nat doesn't like to be kept waiting." – she stepped up on her tippy toes to reach Clint's lips for a kiss.

"No, I don't want you to get sick." – Barton stopped her midway by her shoulders.

"Do I look like I care?" – Laura raised a brow at her husband playfully and went in for the kiss anyway, but to ease his worries some, it was only a small peck and not a full on make-out session.

Leaving him with a stunned expression his face to his preparations, she sauntered off towards the stairs to check up on their kids and to get back to bed.

"Damn, woman." – Clint chuckled to himself with a smirk at his wife's boldness. He was truly a lucky man to have her.

* * *

By the time he got to the clearing, in full gear and equipment, he was already winded. This was going to be a long night.

"How's Nate?" – was the first thing Natasha asked of him when he sat down in the co-pilot seat beside her.

"Fussy." – he curtly replied, still out of breath. Also his throat was killing him, so he didn't want to strain it too much with long speeches.

Black Widow assessed his partner for a second.

"You are sick too, aren't you?" – Nat observed a second later as she lifted the Quinjet off the ground.

"Yepp." – was all Hawkeye offered, shivering a little, despite being dressed head to toe in light armor. He even made sure to put on the long-sleeved one.

"Why didn't you say something?" – the redhead admonished, already anticipating Laura's chiding when she delivered her husband back to her.

"I tried… _eh…_ " – he paused for a second, his breath hitching, but then he lost it. – "To tell you it's not a good time."

"Yeah, maybe next time try to be more specific. With you it's always a bad time when you are home." – she retorted, but her voice betrayed a bit of worry.

"You didn't really give me a chance to elaborate on it on the phone…" – Clint sighed, coughing a little into his fist.

"This really is going to be like Budapest." – Nat mused with a small chuckle as she reached over to check his forehead for fever. It didn't seem too bad, but he definitely took something to mask the symptoms.

"In this department? Worse probably." – Hawkeye replied with an apologetic smile then quickly turned away to sneeze, stifling yet again. – _"H'gshxt… Hngtxks…"_ – He was going to be doing much of this for a while to keep quiet and their hiding place hidden. He could already see the massive headache that was going to follow.

"That can't be good for you." – his partner commented, turning her attention back on the gauges and navigation aids in front of her to pilot the jet.

"Don't really have a choice, do I?" – Clint laughed out. Definitely a long night.

* * *

It was well into dawn when they had finally spotted their target, took him out and gathered the necessary intel so that they could go and report back to headquarters. By some miracle Clint managed to not give away their position or miss any of his arrows. Rigorous training to the point that he could probably shoot a mouse through the eye socket even in his sleep had its perks.

Downside: he was running a fever of 103 and was nursing a massive migraine by the time they reached the new Avengers facility in upstate New York and he wasn't sure he could sit through the flight to get back to Ohio.

"Why don't you just stay here until you get better?" – Nat suggested with a quick glance at her fellow agent as they strutted through the hallway. – "You still have your room, you know."

"I might just do that." – Hawkeye managed to croak out, shivering violently. – "Just let me text Laura."

 ** _Still alive. Not hurt, just exhausted. Gonna stay at compound until I can move again. Give my love to the kids, Honey. xoxo – C._** – he typed on his phone – his personal one – quickly as he made his way to his quarters before crashing in his room, not even changing out of his leather suit.

By the next day Nat had a sore throat… and then slowly everyone at the facility lest Vision and Steve – because they were immune – Banner, Thor and Tony – because they were absent, although in the case of the former two probably the first excuse applied too – came down with the flu.

Yeah… having children? Just marvelous.


	4. BlackHill

_Title: Dirty little secrets_

 _Ships: Natasha Romanov/Maria Hill, BlackHill_

 _Sickie: Nat and Maria_

 _Setting: Sometime between Avengers: Age of Ultron and Captain America: Civil War (a day or two after The joys of parenting)_

* * *

 _Dammit, Clint!_ – Natasha groaned inwardly as she lay in her bed at the compound, bundled up in like three blankets. When she picked her partner up from his homestead and realized that he was ill too, she didn't imagine that it was the fucking _super-flu_ his kids managed to infect him with.

And now here she was, in bed, suffering the same fate. And let me tell you, the Black Widow rarely got sick, so she wasn't that used to coping with the inability to do _anything_ , which actually put her in a very bitchy mood. Nat couldn't really decide which part of it was the worst. The swollen, sore throat that she could barely swallow or speak with; the stuffed up nose that she couldn't breathe through which led to open mouthed sleeping that brought her right back to point one; the incessant sneezing that yet again looped back to the throat situation; or the fever that had her all achy and shivery.

Running through a couple more profanities in her mind directed at her fellow assassin, she stared blearily at the ceiling, her mouth slack in anticipation of another sneeze when there was a knock on her door.

" _He'pTshoo… eh'Pchew… hi'kshtch…"_ – the redhead sneezed into her hands in fast succession, the force forcing her to turn on her side and curl up. – "I wouldn't come in here if I were you. Biohazard area." – she managed to croak out the snappy remark loud enough that she hoped however was awaiting entrance got the message and pissed off, leaving her well alone to her coughing, which was induced by the straining of her voice, forcing her to sit up.

But instead the door opened – _why the hell didn't I lock it?_ – first only to a crack then Maria peeked in, her brow raised at the Russian girl, unimpressed by that welcoming or the hacking up of her lungs.

 _Oh._ Well, that was someone the Black Widow wouldn't mind to have keeping her company, but just made the earlier concern even more pressing.

"Hey." – Nat continued in a bit more mellowed tone once she regained control over her breathing and the brunette stepped in, closing the door behind her to keep their conversation private. – "As much as I would love for you to stay, you don't want you to catch this, Babe." – she rubbed her nose that was still irritated.

'I already have.' – the agent mouthed at her, barely a whisper of a voice seeping through her inflamed vocal cords.

Now that Natasha took a better look at her, the telltale signs were there alright. Red, runny nose, tired, fever bright eyes, her hair in a messy bun instead of the tight hairdo she usually wore, slightly shivering as she stood there in casual sweats instead of her uniform, leaning against the closed door behind her to steady herself, unsure if she was welcome.

"C'mere." – the redhead relented finally and beckoned her to join her, patting the space on the bed by her side.

Not many people knew that the Black Widow was bisexual – or more accurately pansexual if you considered that she was attracted to Bruce even when he was hulking out, not to mention that casual fling she had with that transgender girl in Italy whenever her assignments took her there in her early twenties –, most just assumed it was part of her cover and job to be able and comfortable to seduce just about anyone if it was required to gain information.

Speaking of Banner, the redhead felt a tinge of guilt about betraying their budding romance like that when they first started tentatively seeing each other with Agent Hill, but given that officially she and the scientist were never an item and he made it abundantly clear when he took off after Ultron that he wanted nothing to do with her, Nat just gave in after a while. It actually took several months of discrete but persistent advances from Maria. This arrangement was their little secret.

Maybe many would have doubted it, but she was capable of real emotions, and after the disturbing images she had to relive because of the vision Wanda had given her, having someone there to comfort her was really nice.

'Why the hell do we have mandatory flu shots if we just up and get sick anyway?' – the brunette mouthed in complaining disillusionment as she snuggled up to the other woman, coughing a little to try and clear her throat, but to no avail.

"You know those aren't a guarantee, right?" – Natasha rasped, her voice would be probably gone by the evening too if she kept this up. Even though Maria was infected later, she probably tried working through it, and command center wasn't known for being a stress and yelling free environment, which made her progression with the illness that much faster. – "Especially against those highly virulent and fast mutating strains kids always somehow manage to drag home."

'I'm going to murder Barton.' – the agent's eyes glinted dangerously.

"Get in line!" – the Black Widow snorted, having had similar thoughts just minutes earlier. – "Although this one is partially my fault. I knew Nate was sick and didn't make sure Clint was alright before I dragged him off on my mission."

But Maria wasn't paying much attention, an adorable pre-sneeze expression adorned her face.

 _"_ _AH'Kshoum… ah'ksh… Hah'KSHEW…_ Ugh." – she continued to cup her face afterwards. That was a bit messy.

An idea occurred to Nat just then, and she quickly snatched a few tissues from the box on her side.

"Blow." – she commanded with a mischievous grin as she held the soft paper sheets in front of the other agent's face, awaiting for her to take her hands away. Maria quirked her brow at her incredulously. – "Just do it."

Spending another few seconds glancing between the offered tissue in front of her and the redhead beside her, deliberating her options for getting out of this, Agent Hill finally caved in, letting the redhead to hold it to her nose as she emptied her snot into it.

'Thanks. But gross.' – Maria commented wryly, barely in a whisper. She knew that the Black Widow wasn't squeamish, but this wasn't just over the top.

After discarding the soiled paper into the waste basket conveniently placed at the side of the bed, the Black Widow shifted her blanket over her shoulder and positioned herself over the other agent, straddling her at her hips. The brunette watched her ministrations with interest, wondering what she was about to do next.

Natasha leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips, knowing full-well that they both would be out of breath in a few seconds, so she tried savoring it as much as she could, then snuggled down with her forehead to the other woman's neck, relishing in the comfort of the skin to skin contact. Maria absentmindedly fiddled with her hair, massaging her scalp, which evoked a small moan of appreciation from the redhead. Her head had been killing her, not even the meds relieved much of the throbbing, just dulling it a bit so far. Same difference, she had been miserable either way until now.

Soon they had to switch positions again though, because Nat's nose started to run again. After taking care of business she got back to lying on her back, this time the brunette cuddling her from the side, laying her head down on the Black Widows's chest, her arm thrown casually over her stomach, running little circles into her skin with her fingers.

'Glad that you didn't send me away?' – Maria mouthed the question after a few seconds, glancing up at the assassin.

"Very. Now try to sleep." – the redhead instructed in an unnegotiable way, pulling her closer to herself.

Not even two minutes later the sirens went off at the facility, indicating that there was some kind of incident in the world that needed immediate attention. Agent Hill groaned tiredly, hiding her face further in the blankets.

'Fury can handle that for all I care.' – she declared after a few seconds, making Nat laugh in the process.

The former director was a masochist anyway… surely he would respond and take control of the situation even if he was bedridden at the moment. Much like practically everyone else. Good thing they had Captain America and the Vision. Maybe they should just consider befittingly declaring the whole compound a quarantine zone.


	5. IronFrost

_Title: Disillusionment_

 _Ships: breaking with tradition, none really, maybe some slight, unrequited Tony Stark/Loki, Ironfrost, Frostiron, Starki_

 _Sickie: Loki_

 _Setting: Sometime after Thor: The Dark World_

* * *

Being the king of Asgard didn't exactly live up to everything it promised to be. Boring daily politics and the even more tedious, mundane problems of "his" people that he had to deal with were really grating on his nerves. Masquerading as Odin meant that Loki had a certain image to keep regarding the decisions he made so as not to give himself away.

Not exactly his style, he preferred pranks and mayhem, throwing a little chaos into the world at every chance he got, instead of the wise, peace-seeking solutions. The God of Mischief would never be accepted as the ruler of Asgard, at least for the time being certainly not. Especially not if they found out what he had done to get here.

Even worse, utilizing his magic round-the-clock to maintain the illusion without any breaks – it was just way too risky with Heimdall constantly watching the realms and, although technically he could hide himself away, Odin suddenly disappearing from sight would be just as suspicious – was putting a huge toll on him.

As a child he was always of weaker constitution than his brother or the Asgardians in general, getting ill quite a lot, which was inexplicable to him at the time and frustrating too given that many times he couldn't join Thor and his band of warriors on their adventuring. Now Loki knew the real reason for his poor state of health of course. His homeland was Jotunheim, his body was built for freezing temperatures, not the mild weather of Asgard and the pathogens that thrived there, to which most natives developed a level of immunity through their ancestors, and which he incidentally lacked.

The frost giant felt that the mere collective term of these illnesses were a gross insult and mockery to his very being. The common cold. As if frigid conditions could affect him. Not that this ailment's true nature had anything to do with the lack of heat, but still, just the collocation held a certain level of absurdity.

Today was worse than most in more ways than one. It was the eve of the sjaund in honor of Frigga and himself no less, as Loki was considered dead, exonerated from his crimes for the part he played in saving Asgard from the dark elves and assisting Thor. If only they knew what had exactly gone down that day. The God of Mischief had to hold back a snort at the notion. Another night of insufferable pretenses, just in front of a larger populace.

Thor had left for Midgard the day after the funeral pyre and with the differences in the passage of time, weeks – maybe even months – had gone by for him on Earth. In this realm? It was only the seventh day, hence the funeral ale and the feast.

Normally – if he were free to be himself – he would have enjoyed the frill and attention, but with his magic strained to near its limits, he could feel his body getting affected by a malady reminiscent of his childhood. Loki struggled to stay impassive, as his adoptive father would have, with the onset of the headache he was feeling.

Naturally as the grieving husband, no one wanted to leave him alone so there he was making small talk and receiving condolences all evening, barely touching his food or drink. To make matters worse a familiar face had come up to his throne too.

"My King, please receive my utmost sympathy for your wife and son, they… both… will be very dearly missed." – Lady Sif offered with the traditional fist to heart bow, a bit tentatively at the mentioning of Loki. In her books not all was forgiven, but there was nothing she could do about their king's ruling on the matter.

"It's alright, dear, death is part of the circle of life." – the fake Odin wisely remarked with a small, tight smile.

But the truth was that it wasn't alright. Loki never fit in anywhere. Not in Jotunheim, where he was cast aside, left to die because he was a dwarf as a baby among his people, the frost giants. He had always felt out of place in Asgard too, somewhere deep down always knowing that something was amiss.

Thor's friends never really accepted him, finding his shenanigans and pranks annoying most of the time, and he wasn't able to make friends of his own. With his brother they were somewhat close for a while in their early years, until the rivalry for the throne and jealousy ultimately got in the way. His adoptive mother, Frigga, was the only one Loki felt any sort of genuine connection to, through their magic and the many hours they had spent together, her teaching him.

Yes, he was grieving for her, and although the dark elves who were directly responsible, had been destroyed, he still wanted to exact his revenge on someone to placate the rage in him. Thor and that wretched woman he dragged to their realm could very much take the blame for all he cared.

A second later, at the worst possible timing when one of Thor's buddies was before him, his nostrils flared in irritation and he snapped his head to the side, sneezing into his fist. – " _Hae'kchshshoum…_ excuse me."

"Blessings. Are you alright, my King?" – the warrioress inquired with concern. It was a very rare occurrence to see the Allfather ill.

"Yes, although I think it's best if I retired for the night. The weight of the loss seems to have gotten to me." – Loki hid his smirk at the perfect getaway excuse, solemnly getting up from his place to leave the festivities.

"Shall I send for the healers?" – the brunette suggested, trying to be helpful.

"No, that won't be necessary. I just wish to be left alone for a while." – the Asgardian ruler said dismissively.

Slowly, leaning on his staff, at the moment feeling every bit as old as the person he was impersonating, he made his way to the double doored entrance to the hall, sensing every eye in the room on himself.

Once outside Loki sighed to himself, partially in relief, partially to rid his mind of the depressing thoughts and strolled through the golden hallways to the royal chambers. No doubt about it, he needed a break.

Casting all caution aside, he hid himself away then released his hold on the illusion he had been managing, even the one that concealed his true appearance, his icy blue skin coming to surface. This configuration actually consumed far less energy.

If the God of Mischief calculated correctly, he had about eight to ten hours or so before anyone dared to check on him. A wild idea took hold in the frost giant's mind. That timeframe amassed to at least three days on Earth. Should he? It would have been the perfect change of scenery and a chance to recuperate.

Without dwelling on it too much he ambled from his bedroom towards one of the many secret portals that connected the realms and which would lead him to Midgard. Fortunately even the Watcher of Worlds wasn't all seeing when it came to him.

* * *

The thrill of sneaking around – something truly in his nature – fueled the adrenalin in his veins, his fatigue momentarily forgotten. As he arrived on Earth through the wormhole at what seemed like a beach cave, he pondered briefly where he should head next.

A mischievous grin appeared on his face. Stalking Thor and his Avengers buddies was always fun. They wouldn't even know he was there. In and out, simple as that. With that he teleported himself to the top of one of the many skyscrapers in the city, right beside his assumed destination.

Loki was mildly surprised when he saw that New York was almost back to its former glory, as if the Chituari invasion he had orchestrated was just a bad dream, only small remnants of it seeping through. The Stark Tower now became the Avengers Tower, seemingly this was their headquarters. Gently scanning through the building, checking for the consciousness of the inhabitants to see who was present, he disappointedly noted that his dear brother was not in. Probably visiting Jane Foster, he sure had a strong infatuation with the woman.

But to his great astonishment he realized that there was someone else that had caught his attention, wanting very much to see what that person was up to.

Loki willed himself to appear invisibly in the room. It was a lab of some sorts, scientific equipment everywhere. And there he was, Tony Stark, tinkering with something on his computer, seemingly deep in thought as he made his notes.

The man fascinated the God to no end. In his quest for world domination the frost giant tried to control him with the scepter, but for some reason it didn't take hold.

He casually looked over his shoulder to see what he was working on. Seemed like some kind of AI aimed at protecting the world at all costs, named Ultron. Loki shook his head to himself in mirth. Judging by the volatile nature of many of its members, in many cases, protecting the world at all costs would lead to taking a stance against the Avengers themselves. Surely soon enough they would be their own downfall, probably thanks to Tony. Oh, how much the God of Mischief wished that time would be already here.

Stark was a genius alright, something the Asgardian prince admired, but many times he was ill-prepared to see the consequences of his own actions.

Just then the sliding doors to the lab opened and another, although a lot less welcome face entered. Of course, they would be working together, science bros to the end. Loki's heart flared with just a hint of jealousy at their friendly demeanor and interaction with each other and shuddered as he remembered his last encounter with the Hulk, when he was thrown around like a rag doll only a few floors above from where they were at right now. At the moment though the scientist was every bit his docile, Bruce Banner self.

Suddenly the pale blue God's breath hitched, and it took everything in him to stifle the sneeze. He was invisible alright, but not inaudible if he wasn't careful, and the momentary loss of control over himself and his magic could lead to just that.

 _"_ _He'gnxtsh…"_ – he instantly glanced up to see whether the other two in the room noticed anything.

"Bless you." – Bruce absentmindedly offered, without looking up at his lab partner.

"I didn't sneeze, I thought you sneezed." – Tony snapped his head up in bewilderment. Actually he had never heard Banner sneeze before now that he thought about it, and he quickly glanced around to check if there was anyone else in the room with them.

Loki took that as a cue to disappear before he was discovered, especially since he felt another tickle coming on. This time he transported himself to the currently unused presidential suite in the Four Seasons Hotel.

 _"_ _ae'tchoum… h'kikTSHshshoo… heh'kchshshsh…"_ – the mischievous god sneezed freely, not even bothering to cover.

It was probably time to just turn in for the night. And maybe sleep through the next three days.


End file.
